


At a Bar Called O'Malley's

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned at the Altar, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, but all ends well (perhaps even a little fluffy?), mentions of depression/low self-esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bartender at a bar called O'Malley's runs into someone she once knew - Cas. And not only did she once know him, he abandoned her at the altar. Naturally, she is a bit miffed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	At a Bar Called O'Malley's

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The title is from Rupert Holmes’ song “Escape (The Pina Colada Song)” – some of the lyrics are used in the fic as well. This fic is set in early season 9 right around the time that Cas is first kicked out of the bunker and starts working at the Gas-N-Sip as Steve.
> 
> Teaser:
> 
> You chewed on your lips as you tried your best not to stare at the man at the end of the bar. It had taken you the better part of a year to finally get yourself to a good place after being left at the altar. A year to find yourself, to start over, and realize that you were fine as you are. You didn’t need anybody to make you better than you already were. You had thought you were over it.
> 
> Apparently, you were wrong. 
> 
> Because seeing him standing there… It was all you could do not to walk over and slap him across the face. You breathed in slowly through your nose, counting to 7 as you did, and then repeated the count on the exhale.

It was late afternoon in the middle of the week, which meant that business was predictably slow. Currently, there were only 2 regulars at separate tables at the back of the bar, and you were pretty sure both of them were asleep. Bars like O’Malley’s weren’t exactly spots where people came in for a midday pick me up. It wasn’t a dive, necessarily, but you never expected soccer moms or guys in business suits to stop in for daiquiris and peanuts.

O’Malley’s was dark, quiet, and old fashioned. The bar was solid oak and so was the floor. The stools had comfortable leather cushions that had been charmingly repaired with duct tape, and the jukebox in the corner only took quarters. The pretzels placed on the bar and the tables were in mix-matched plastic bowls, and instead of large flat screens tuned to various sports channels, there was an old wall-mounted tube television in the corner behind the bar that the owner, Bob, occasionally allowed to be turned on during the nightly news.

Ok, so maybe O’Malley’s was a dive, but you loved it. You had ever since you had walked in looking for a job a few years ago and Bob had grudgingly given you one. Back then, you’d desperately needed a fresh start and O’Malley’s had given it to you, so you were willing to look over some of the rougher edges of the place.

You sat at the end of the bar, running out the last few minutes of your break by trying to balance your stool on its back legs without putting the toe of your boot under the bar rail for balance. When that proved unentertaining, you watched the newest hire, a young man named Ted, as he leafed through a bartender’s guide book, slowly mouthing the words and pointing to the individual bottles that would be needed to mix some of the drinks on the page. It was highly unlikely anyone coming to O’Malley’s would actually want to order a Slippery Nipple, but you kept your mouth shut. After all, you’d done basically the same thing after getting hired and a little knowledge never hurt anyone.

You heard the door creak open and looked over to see two tall men stroll in. The shorter one with the slightly bowed legs made his way immediately to the bar and got Ted’s attention to order a beer and a shot of whiskey. The other one stood at the door and held it open as a third man walked inside. The other two joined the man at the bar who had already downed his shot and was calling for another. You watched him for a moment, wondering if he was going to be a problem – it didn’t seem likely as he didn’t touch the new shot Ted set before him – before turning your attention to the other two. 

The tall one with the long hair had ordered a beer and you bit your lip to keep from laughing as he tried to fold his long legs around the stool without knocking them against the bar. The shortest of the three stood on his other side and all you could see was a slender wrist and the sleeve of a trench coat as he took his own beer from Ted.

The three men continued to drink and talk quietly and they soon lost your interest. The two you could see were incredibly attractive, but though both had looked over in your direction, neither had made any indication they were looking for conversation, so you let it go. You kept glancing their way as they slowly drank their beers, finally shifting around so that you could get a glimpse at the third man.

And that was when you recognized HIM. Your bar stool thumped down hard on the wooden floor, but luckily it was at the same time that Ted dropped a crate of pretzels, so the sound was lost in the din. You were aware of Bob coming out and griping at Ted as the young man began picking up the loose bags of salty snacks, but you only had eyes for the man at the end of the bar.

Two years hadn’t changed him much. His dark hair was still disheveled, always looking like someone had run their hands through it. The blue of his eyes was still easily able to be picked out even from across the room. And he still did that thing with his tongue – slipping it out to lick at the center of his upper lip – when he smiled. 

You clutched at the edge of the bar and thought back to the last time you’d seen him. It wasn’t necessarily a time in your life you liked to think about. You’d been pretty low, having just ended yet another bad relationship, when you’d noticed a flyer on the wall of the restaurant you worked at as a waitress. It was for an organization that promised to help singles find true love – not just true love, but committed love. The flyer boasted a successful marriage rate of over 87% for those who attended their one-week “find your soul-mate” events.

You knew it was stupid. You knew it. And yet you’d gone home and googled them. You’d researched everything you could and they came up as fairly legit. The organization did hold these events, they did perform mass wedding ceremonies at the end, and based on all the interviews and news sources you could find, what they said was true. Over 87% of the people they joined together apparently stayed married. And at the time, the thought of not being alone was incredibly appealing.

So you’d scheduled the time off, paid the not-as-high-as-you’d-figured registration fee, and drove 3 hours to a small hotel on the coast. The theme of the event was that old 80s song about pina coladas and so the words to the song were everywhere. It was played at the start of every evening event. The first “get to know you” night had even asked for participants to fill out their responses to the lyrics.

Which was how you’d met Him – Steve. His response card had made you smile for what felt like the first time in years. “Yes, I like pina coladas – coconuts are very healthy. Getting caught in the rain can be very refreshing. I do not know about yoga. Is that a form of yogurt? I do like yogurt. I have both halves of my brain. I did not think a human could survive with only half a brain. Is that wrong?”

After that first night, you’d spent all your time with Steve. You’d both gotten a little tipsy that first night and crashed in your room. After that, he never left. The solid feel of him was amazing and even if all you did was sleep, you didn’t care. During the day, the two of you didn’t even go to the events but sat outside on the beach. There was a newness about him, as if he were fresh to the world. You enjoyed spending time with him, discussing how the world worked and smiling at his answers. But there was also a tired sadness there, of being alone and cast out, that you identified with. 

By the middle of the week, everyone could see how well the two of you worked together, and so it was no surprise when the managers of the event stopped you to explain that Steve had approached them about having your names put on the list to take part in the wedding day celebration to be held at the end of the event. You were slightly shocked – after all, Steve hadn’t said anything to you – but thrilled as well. You’d nodded your agreement. They said they’d set up all the details. 

On the day of the wedding, all the couples had stood at the front of the hotel’s main dining room before a justice of the peace. 

But you weren’t among them. Instead, you were standing outside, arguing with the event staff. There had been no dress, no flowers. Steve was nowhere to be found. You had been buzzing with worry and panic until someone finally shuffled forward with a baffled blonde man and his new wife introducing them as Steve and Y/N.

It was all a misunderstanding, they explained. On several levels. First, the blonde Steve had managed to connect with a woman who shared your name, so when the event staff had called about setting up the ceremony, it had simply been a case of getting the wrong person with the right name. They couldn’t find any record of your Steve ever being a member of the event. Somehow, the paperwork had gotten confused or lost. Some suggested that he might even have been a registered member.

But even more importantly, no one could find your Steve. He had just vanished, leaving behind his original event card in your room and a small white flower on a notepad with a scrawled “I’m sorry” as his only explanation. They’d given you a full refund on the trip for your troubles and offered you a free weekend stay. You had barely taken the time to pack before leaving.

You chewed on your lips as you tried your best not to stare at the man at the end of the bar. It had taken you the better part of a year to finally get yourself to a good place after being left at the altar. A year to find yourself, to start over, and realize that you were fine as you are. You didn’t need anybody to make you better than you already were. You had thought you were over it.

Apparently, you were wrong. 

Because seeing him standing there… It was all you could do not to walk over and slap him across the face. You breathed in slowly through your nose, counting to 7 as you did, and then repeated the count on the exhale. It was something the counselor you had started seeing after Steve left suggested. The counting did help, but it didn’t soothe your anger. Instead, it focused your attention.

Slowly, so as not to draw attention to yourself, you got up and walked over to the jukebox and slipped in a few quarters. You randomly selected a song and then carefully punched in the code for the second song. You made your way back over to the bar, still moving slowly so as not to attract attention and began readying the ingredients you’d need. As the thumping base of a rock song filled the bar, you ran the crushed ice, coconut cream, rum, and pineapple juice through the hardly-used blender and poured it all into a glass before putting a lime wedge on top as a garnish. Then you waited, barely resisting the urge to run and apply a fresh coat of lipstick and make sure your boobs looked good under the plain black tee you were wearing.

“I was tired of my lady…” You licked your lips as the song began playing and you watched from the corner of your eye as Steve cocked his head to listen to it. Then you picked up the drink and walked over to the three men at the end of the bar.

“God I hate this song,” the green-eyed man said, toying with the shot of whiskey in front of him.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for it,” you said, drawing his eyes to you. He smirked and drew his lower lip into his mouth, but you kept on walking until you were standing directly in front of the third man. “What about you, Steve? You still like pina coladas?” You set the drink down lightly in front of him and licked a bit of the splashed rum off your fingers.

“Steve?” the first man asked, but you only had eyes for the man in question. His eyes were round and large, and he swallowed hard. You could see that he recognized you, which was good. For a moment, you’d been afraid he wouldn’t. He might not have changed in the few years since you’d seen him, but you had. A new haircut and style, you wore darker makeup now, and a lot more black and leather had found its way into your wardrobe once you’d settled into yourself.

“Hello Y/N,” Steve finally said, his hand clutched tightly around his beer mug.

“Long time no see,” you said, amazed at how calm you were.

“You two know each other?” The tall one in the middle asked, flicking his eyes back and forth between you.

“Thought I knew him pretty well,” you said, your gaze never leaving those wide, blue eyes.

“Cas?” the green-eyed man said, leaning over and trying to catch Steve’s eyes. 

“Cas?” you repeated. “So not Steve then. Good to know.” Cas-not-Steve licked his lips before quickly leaning over and grabbing the shot from the other man’s fingers and slamming it back. 

“Whoa, Cas, take it easy,” the tall one said.

“Will you excuse us please?” Cas (not Steve, you reminded yourself) asked quietly. The taller man immediately backed away, hands raised. He reached out to pluck at the other man’s sleeve.

“Come on, Dean.” Dean picked up his beer and started to walk away.

“Thanks,” you said to the retreating men “I’d like a chance to talk to my fiancé in private if you don’t mind.” Just like that, Dean was back at the bar.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, putting a hand to the shorter man’s shoulder. “Fiancé?”

“Dean,” the taller man started.

“Shut up, Sammy. This is just getting interesting.”

“Dean,” Cas-not-Steve said, pinching at his nose between his eyes.

“Sorry we didn’t invite you to the wedding,” you offered. “I’m sure Steve… I’m sorry, CAS,” – you made sure to drag his name out so that the one syllable felt like three – “would’ve told you sooner or later.”

“Dude,” Dean said, “you’re married? Again?”

“No,” Cas said at the same time you said “Again?”. Sammy, who desperately looked like he wanted to vanish, even seemed intrigued and came back up a few steps.

“Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I meant I need to talk to my ex-fiancé. We never did get around to saying any vows, did we sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, and you felt your nostrils flare at how genuine it sounded. You knew he meant it, and for some reason it just pissed you off more.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! You left me at the altar, and you’re sorry?” Your voice was getting louder and louder, and you forced yourself to stop and breathe, trying to remember how to count to seven.

“You left her at the altar?! Cas, dude –” Dean started, but you cut him off.

“Listen princess, the grown-ups need to talk now, so why don’t you and Sasquatch over there go find a table and wait.” Dean looked like he was going to respond, but Sammy came up then and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away.

“Sorry,” he said, before more muffled words exchanged between the two men as they sat down at a table not too far away, but far enough. You crossed your arms and stared at the man in the trench coat as he shifted on the leather seat.

“I’m waiting,” you said as the last few chords of the song faded away.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said again, slumping down over the bar.

“Yeah. I’m going to need a little more than that.” When he looked up at you in confusion you moved your hands down to rest on your hips. “Maybe starting with your name? Your real name? What happened? Why you left…”

“I…” Cas paused and huffed out a breath. “My name is Castiel. You can call me Cas.”

“And the reason I knew you as Steve?” you asked.

“Things were complicated,” Cas said and you raised an eyebrow at him. You heard Sam huff from his chair across the room as Dean muttered “no shit.”

“They part of that complication?” You pointed at the two men who were suddenly trying to look very much like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“They always are,” Cas said with something that sounded like resignation and fondness in his tone. You pointed at them again.

“Wait, the three of you aren’t…” your voice trailed off as Cas cocked his head to the side, trying to understand your question. Dean however, had no such hesitation.

“No, we’re not!” he half yelled before Sammy pulled him back down into his chair and shushed him. “Why the hell do people always assume that, Sam?” Dean asked, taking a drink from his beer.

“I’m still waiting on an explanation,” you said in the silence that followed. “Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I couldn’t,” Cas answered quietly. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/N, believe me. I never planned on anything happening. I was there because I had nowhere else to go.” At this, you noticed Sam and Dean shift uncomfortably. “And when you invited me back to your room…”

“Shut it, Princess!” you snapped as you saw Dean begin to smirk. He grunted and turned back to his beer.

“I never should have taken you up on it. I put you in great danger, and I left when I realized that,” Cas finished. “I have thought you often.”

“Often, huh?” you said, nodding your head before starting to laugh. “You realize you’re basically reciting the douchebag playbook, right?” You began to tick off your fingers as you spoke. “It’s complicated, I never meant to hurt you, it was for your own good, I’ve missed you… Next thing you know, you’ll tell me it wasn’t me, but you.”

“My leaving had nothing to do with you,” Cas said earnestly. You saw the two men at the nearby table wince.

“We were supposed to get married!” you said loudly. “At that point, it had everything to do with me.” Cas shifted.

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly. 

“What?”

“I didn’t know we were supposed to get married.” He looked up into your wide eyes. “I wasn’t there for that. I was… All the time spent with you – you didn’t laugh when I was clumsy or when I asked stupid questions. You made me feel safe. I never realized…” He paused to clear his throat. 

“You never wanted to get married.” You said it as a statement, your breath coming quicker. 

“When I understood, well I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t allow myself to stay any longer.”

“You never wanted to get married,” you repeated. “Never wanted to marry me. All this time, I thought you’d just gotten cold feet, but you never wanted me in the first place.” A half-laugh escaped out of your mouth.

“I didn’t say I never wanted you, Y/N,” Cas said quickly.

“Leaving because you don’t want to get married to someone is pretty clear, Cas,” you answered. You reached over and grabbed the white fruity drink from in front of him, taking a long drink and shaking your head at the strong taste of rum.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to stay,” he said. “I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked angrily. This whole confrontation had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you just felt tired. “What was so important that you couldn’t at least tell me you were leaving?” Cas flashed a look back at Dean and Sam.

“The end of the world?” he quietly said with a shrug. 

“Oh, right. That’s original at least. The world’s still around, so I guess I should thank you for that, huh?”

“You’re welcome,” Cas said sincerely. You saw Sam and Dean both put their hands over their faces and sink lower in their chairs.

You stared at Cas for a full minute before calmly reaching down and grabbing the soda gun from behind the bar, aiming it at him, and pushing the Water button. Cas closed his eyes and sat there as you sprayed him full in the face and chest with a blast of cold water. When you released the button, he continued to sit there silently, water dripping from his hair and his chin.

You put the soda gun back in its place and turned to see Ted standing at the end of the bar in shock.

“I’m going home,” you told him as you shouldered past. You paused long enough to tell Bob that you were leaving early because of “lady problems” – which had him all but shoving you out the door – before you were out the back door of the bar and sitting on the steps of the loading bay in the back alley. You sat there for several moments before you heard a footstep on the gravel in the alley. You looked up to see Cas standing there. His shirt and coat were still soaked, the fabric clinging to his skin. 

“I’m not crying,” you said defensively, and you weren’t. Your eyes might be prickling with the desire to, but you refused to let the tears actually fall.

“I know,” he answered, voice low and quiet. After a few moments of silence you pointedly looked at him and then shifted over on the step. There was room if he wanted to sit, but you’d be damned if you actually asked him. Cas chewed at his lips before stepping forward, turning and sitting down, leaving space between you. You watched as some water dripped off his coat and stained the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” he began, but you cut him off.

“You keep saying that and I’m liable to believe you.” You shook your head and laughed. “You know the real kicker? I’m actually ok with not being married. With being single. Things have changed for me.” You stood up and walked a few steps away. “I’m happy with who I am now.”

“I’m glad,” Cas said, but you silenced him with a look.

“I’m happy, but I am still pissed at you. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get here? The therapy. Oh God, the therapy.” You kicked at the gravel with your boot. “I didn’t want to be alone and I thought you... When you left, I thought – wow, how pathetic am I that I can’t even get a guy desperate enough to be at one of those things to be with me.” You looked up and saw him staring at his hands, shoulders hunched.

“And now, I find out that you weren’t even part of the event. You weren’t there looking for a wife.” You sat back down. “You could’ve saved me thousands in therapy and hangovers if you’d just let that little bit slip before running off into the night.” You both sat in silence, listening to the drip of water from his coat. “Sorry about your shirt,” you finally muttered quietly.

“No,” Cas said, slowly reaching over and taking your hand with his. You let him turn it so that the back of your hand rested in his palm and then he covered it with his other hand so that it looked like he was praying with your hand in the middle.

“I wish I could explain,” he said softly. His voice brought back memories of nights on the beach, listening as he talked of stars and heat and destiny. “I meant what I said,” he continued. “You were the best thing that could have ever happened to me at that time. I was lost and alone, and you were a bright spot in the midst of all of it. I didn’t want to leave.”

You slowly pulled your hand out from between his and let it rest on his knee. He turned and met your eyes.

“I may not have realized that you were expecting marriage when I was with you, but I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Then why did you?” The silence stretched out so long that you figured he wasn’t going to answer.

“There were… people… who were looking for me. Who wanted to hurt me. Because of things I had done. Things I knew.” You looked at him.

“Oh God. You’re a mob hitman in protective custody,” you said, only half-joking. He cocked his head and looked at you. “Like in the movies?” you added.

“I do not believe that to be an accurate description of the events,” he said slowly. “I’m behind on my film watching.” He covered your hand with his own and squeezed. “But the people who were after me would have thought nothing of hurting you to get to me. That is why I left.” 

“That all sounds very tragic and heroic,” you said, looking at him. He stared back at you, eyes open and honest. “And God help me, I think I believe you.”

“I also meant it when I said I have often thought of you,” Cas said, letting his thumb rub circles on the side of your wrist.

“Yeah?” You leaned your head towards him and licked your lips. The two of you may never have done more than simply sleep in your bed that whole week, but there had been a few slow, sweet kisses on the beach. You remembered the feel of his lips, dry and warm, on yours. You brought your hands up to cup his face, feeling the scratch of scruff on your palms. Gently, you pulled him towards you and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, and you let your fingers brush over the closed lids before using your grip to tilt his head forward and settling your lips on his forehead in a sort of benediction. A breath shuttered out of Cas as you rested your forehead against his.

Just then, you heard someone hollering Cas’ name from down at the end of the alley.

“I have to go,” Cas said, his voice so soft and deep it was almost no more than air passing over his lips.

“At least you told me this time,” you replied, smiling at him. Cas brought a hand up to brush away a few of the rogue tears that had escaped your control. He stood slowly and turned to walk away. You chewed at your lip before standing up and taking a few steps after him.

“Hey Cas,” you called. When the other man stopped but didn’t turn around, you took a breath. “Do you still like getting caught in the rain?” The other man finally turned to look at you and you saw the tip of his tongue come out as he smiled.

“I do.” You huffed out a laugh at his response.

“Well, at least I finally got to here you say those words,” you whispered to yourself. You walked over to him quickly, pulling a card from your back pocket.

“Call me some time,” you said, slipping the card into his pocket, “you know, when the world isn’t ending.” 

“That may not be as frequently as you would think,” he said. You laughed and patted his shoulder.

“Well hell,” you said, “then call me when it is. I’ll buy us a round and we can share a last toast.” Cas cupped your face with one hand, his long fingers easily reaching behind your jaw as he leaned down to kiss you. He pulled back as he heard his name called again from down the alley followed by a hushed reprimand of “Dean, shut up – he’ll get here when he gets here.” You laughed against his lips.

“Goodbye, Cas,” you said, backing away. Cas licked his lips and nodded at you before turning and walking quickly away. You watched him until he disappeared around the alley into the street before you went back to grab your stuff from the steps. Something seemed to shift inside your chest, a feeling of comfort and ease.

You hoped Cas would call but you realized that if he didn’t, that was ok too. The world wasn’t going to end.

END


End file.
